


Prom or Hell?

by babyblacksheep



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Heathers AU, Jefferson Isn't At Blackwell AU, M/M, POV First Person, Vortex Club
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-07-18 17:23:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7324099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyblacksheep/pseuds/babyblacksheep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"dear diary: my teen angst bullshit now has a body count." </p>
<p>Heathers AU where nobody's missing and Warren is part of the Vortex Club (à la the Heathers clique). There might not be any creepy and abusive photography teachers, but some of the kids at this school are a little homicidal, because Arcadia Bay can never get a break from all the horror here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Glory and Gore

“dear tumblr…  
It turns out the vortex club initiation does NOT involve any human/animal sacrifices. Who knew? Still not convinced this isn’t a cult tho.  
Can all 158 of you pray I don’t die at tonight’s par-tay?  
Peace. WG.”

 

_Yo, Warren Gayram, why don’t you go suck a dick and move out of the way?_

  
Bruises on my shoulders from being slammed into the lockers so many times. Yup, it’s whatever.

  
_Get a life, homo. You do anything else besides study?_

  
Seeing the red “F” circled at the top of his test paper and flashing a cheeky grin. Suffering a fist to the jaw because _What, you think that’s fucking funny?_

  
_Damn, you got something you wanna confess?_

  
Scrambling to pick up all the gay porno screenshots someone printed out and slipped into my locker.

  
That’s the day to day at Blackwell. Or, you know, it was. Before the Vortex Club sucked me in. (No pun intended – I swear.) We have a pretty straightforward negotiation, really; I dole out cheat sheets, test answers and dirty secrets for quick A’s to Blackwell’s elite, and in exchange… I’m virtually untouchable.

  
No more nasty messages on the whiteboard outside my dorm. No more stealing my clothes from the locker room during gym class. Oh, and “ _Warren Gayram_ ”? Yeah, haven’t heard that one in a while.

  
Still, this means that my “meme shirts” and “shitty Kmart apparel” has been stuffed into drawers and swapped with Snapbacks, oversized jeans and Blackwell hoodies. And socializing with Max or Alyssa? Not if the Vortex Club has anything to say about it. No, I have new friends now…

  
There’s Logan Robertson, linebacker for the Blackwell Bigfoots (whatever that means). He’s a vaping fanatic and that guy who copies and pastes Wikipedia articles into Microsoft Word and turns them in for his essays. High strength and agility, less than average stamina and dangerously low intellect.

  
Then we’ve got Zachary Riggins. He’s quarterback for the Bigfoots and infamous for sexting Victoria Chase a photo of him squatting over a football naked. Probably addicted to steroids and Ritalin, but who am I to judge, I guess. High strength, low agility, average stamina and high intellect.

  
And… Hayden Jones. The almighty. _He is a mythic douche._

  
Despite being a bunch of soul-sucking pricks, they’re glorified and worshipped at this school. And in all this shitty high school chaos, they always manage to walk away completely intact, forever unscathed. What I’d give for that superpower.

 

 

* * *

 

 

I try to look attentive as Ms. Grant drones on about today’s chem lab: heat of reaction. It’s not that she’s a bad teacher or anything, but it’s hard to get psyched about stuff you already know. Everyone is still listening to her instructions and jotting down notes, so I take the liberty of getting a head start since I don’t really need a detailed explanation. I’m idly stirring water around in the homemade calorimeter when I sense a pair of less than friendly eyes in my peripheral.

  
Across the room, Brooke is giving me a ferocious side eye as she sets up her lab equipment. She’s pretty pissed because usually we’re lab partners...but ever since the Vortex Club recruited me, I’ve been partnering up with Hayden.

 

_“You’ve got the biggest brain, so if you’re my partner, I’m totally getting an A, brah.”_

  
Today she got stuck with the new kid because they were the only two people without partners. To avoid her terrifying gaze, I accidentally make eye contact with the stranger. He pushes a stray blonde lock of hair out of his eyes and smiles wickedly. Was that for me…?

  
I look away rapidly.

  
“Hey, _Graham_.” Hayden nudges me with such force I nearly knock over the calorimeter and spill water everywhere. “Earth to Graham… Jesus.”

  
“’Sup, Hayden.” I nod obediently. My eye bags suddenly feel like they are clawing deeper into my skin, close to the bone.

  
“Finally.” His voice drops to a whisper. “Hey, so, you know chemistry. How do we make DaCosta’s lab blow up?”

  
Immediately my eyes are drawn to Daniel DaCosta, who is currently hunched over, too entranced with his sketchbook to take any notes on the assignment. I don’t talk to him much, but he seems like a cool guy. He’s partnered with Alyssa, whose hair has been recently dyed green. Her face is buried in a book, so she is equally distracted. We used to text and watch Doctor Who together, but ever since a photo of me taking shots with Hayden at a Vortex Club party surfaced on Facebook, she’s been avoiding me. 

 

“Why Daniel?” I mumble. “He’s never done anything to me.”

 

Hayden snickers and rests his elbows up on the table. “He’s never done anything for you, either. Come on, it’ll be so dope. We might even get out of class early.”

  
“I guess I’ll think about it,” I hesitate, rubbing the back of my neck. But Hayden is looking for a 100% approval rate.

  
“Don’t think.” He nudges me again, aggressively. I tell myself it’s just a friendly nudge.

 

By now, people are starting to circulate around the room, gathering supplies and preparing their lab stations. I roll my eyes but stand up from my seat anyway, a sign of surrender.

  
Amidst the classroom traffic, I open a cabinet and pretend to rummage for an important ingredient. My hand closes around a bottle of isopropyl alcohol – extremely flammable and perfect for blowing shit up. Nobody bats an eye when I fill a test tube with the isopropyl, because I’m supposed to know what I’m doing in this class. Even as a member of the Vortex Club, I still manage to be invisible sometimes.

  
Alyssa is still nose deep in her copy of Eleanor and Park, and Daniel has all the test tubes set up but seems clueless about how to proceed. He tries getting Brooke’s attention, but she is too preoccupied with her lab to take notice.

 

I can feel the bad karma creeping up on me as I swap the water test tube for the isopropyl one, my sleight of hand game strong. When did I become so enslaved by Hayden?

 

“Yo, Daniel,” I call out. “You look like you could use some assistance from Dr. Graham.”

  
“Ah – thank you, Warren.” He turns around, smiling bashfully. “I was so busy sketching the new kid, I forgot to write down the instructions... he – he has a great profile.”

  
I sneak a dangerous glance toward Brooke’s mysterious lab partner. _He’s looking this way again._

  
“No worries,” I shrug. “So, nothing too major here. Just stir the water around for five minutes, and then heat this one,” I gesture to the isopropyl tube, “to at least a hundred degrees, nothing less.”

  
“One hundred? If you say so, Warren.” Daniel scribbles the information down in his notebook.

  
My face is scalding with shame as I feed him the rest of the instructions. Hayden, Zach and Logan do this sort of thing in their sleep, but me… not so much. I may not know Daniel very well, but I know this is fucked up.

  
I also know that if I refused to do Hayden’s bidding, he would have skinned me alive and my dorm room would probably end up trashed to hell. Or I’d get a call to Principal Wells’ office because someone told him in confidence that I had been selling test answers. Like some sick and twisted mystery bag of punishment.

 

Hayden lights the Bunsen burner when I return to our lab. He might be the demon king of Blackwell, but at least he participates now and then. I mean, I know he’s going to end up copying all my notes for this experiment, but it’s a start.

  
“’S gonna be awesome, brah.” Hayden grabs the empty pack of matches and aims for the trash can several feet away. He makes the shot. “Hey – I still need a topic for the lunchtime poll.”

  
I groan. “Yikes, it’s Friday already?”

  
He switches off the burner once it reaches fifty five degrees, the actual number I should have given Daniel. “If I get one more political topic I’m gonna hurl, man.”

  
“Uhh…” I take note of both thermometers in each test tube and record the info. “What about, like… what if you woke up during the Jurassic period with only a pair of shoelaces, a bottle of iodine, a mini shovel and—”

  
“Fucking snooze fest, Graham.” He rolls his eyes dismissively. “I want something that makes you, like, think about your life. And real life sucks losers dry, bitch.”

  
For the next five minutes, Hayden babbles about how he “teaches people real life” and “if you wanna fuck with the eagles, brah, you gotta learn to fly.” I tune him out, because I can’t handle giving these lectures my full attention. And to think this is who I consider my best friend...? Oh, the humanity.

  
“Oh shit, here it comes.” My shoulder suffers from another forceful blow as Hayden nods in Daniel’s direction.

  
Daniel strikes a match to light his Bunsen burner. Alyssa is a safe distance away, gathering supplies from the other side of the classroom.

  
My leg bounces erratically, so I drag my palm down the fabric of my jeans to stop the shaking. But my body is hopelessly restless, like when I chug too many cans of Monster during a WOW battleground.

  
The temperature is quickly rising, the isopropyl bubbling in the test tube now. Meanwhile my stomach’s contents are swirling, and I have the urge to go hug a trash bin. It’s not like a bomb is about to detonate at his lab station or anything, but guilt has already sunk its teeth in deep. And this isn’t even the worst thing I’ve ever done for Hayden.

  
Hayden’s face is stretched into a sick, satisfied grin and I am just biting my lip, biting down until it bleeds—

  
There’s a soft pop and a _whoosh_ as the lab erupts.

  
At first there is just flame... billowing dangerously, hungrily. My vision swimming in oranges and reds, everything hazy. You have to squint to see straight...

  
And then the noise kicks me in the skull – the scraping of chairs, shrill screams and panicked shouting. Courtney distraught about the fire sprinklers ruining her hair. Ms. Grant demanding that everyone evacuate the classroom, _now_.

  
The mouth of the fire swelling like a ravenous creature. Daniel stumbling backwards, swatting at his T-shirt – the flames burn through the fabric quickly.

  
I scramble to shove all my belongings into my book bag, but Hayden grabs my arm and hauls me out of the room. “Come on – let’s get the fuck outta here.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

We all get released to lunch early due to the chemistry lab fiasco. Zach and Logan are quick to flank to Hayden’s side once everyone has officially gotten their food from the cafeteria. I am forever hovering on the outskirts of the vicious trio, never quite as cool as they manage to be. But people still turn their heads or shrink in fear when I walk by, so I guess that’s something. Fear by association.

  
“I heard about the explosion in chem.” Zach gives Hayden a congratulatory fist bump.

  
“Yeah, someone said DaCosta caught on _fire_ – can’t believe I missed it,” Logan says through a mouthful of food. “Think it’s on YouTube yet?”

  
Hayden just winks. “A’ight, we’ll be back. Gotta dish out that lunchtime poll.” He produces the infamous clipboard and I begrudgingly abandon my food to join him.

  
“Oh shit, are you gonna use my question?” Logan blurts. “Favorite vape juice flavor?”

  
“No – goddamn, Logan, you honestly come up with the worst shit every week. Fucking dumbass.”

  
Logan crushes a tater tot between his fingers. “Sorry. Just trying to help.”

  
I shuffle behind Hayden, who strides across campus with a confidence that is enviable.

  
“So, I’ve been wanting to use this question for a few weeks, but...”

  
I know he’s still talking, but all of my cognitive functions have suddenly been rerouted, because _mystery boy has been spotted_. Sitting alone in the grass, looking like James Dean – and now my throat is closing because _shit_ , he’s looking at me, he sees me noticing him –

  
“Hey – whoa!”

  
My brain stutters, taking me 2.9 seconds to realize I’ve just bumped into Max Caulfield and nearly knocked her off the bench she’s sitting at.

  
“Damn, sorry, Max.” I run my hand through my hair awkwardly, struggling to make eye contact. “Hey... sorry I missed your Sailor Moon marathon last month. I’ve just had so much shit going on.”

  
“It’s totally cool – I saw your pics on Instagram. Looks like you and the Vortex Club had a lot of fun.”

  
“Yeah... for sure. But I owe you, Mad Max.”

  
“Once the Vortex Club releases their claws.” She gives a defeated smile. “Oh hey, check out what I found in my dorm last night.” She reaches into her satchel and then hands me a Polaroid photo.

  
It’s Max and I posing at Dana’s Halloween party. She’s dressed as Kiki from Kiki’s Delivery Service and I’m the Eleventh Doctor from Doctor Who. Gotta love that fish custard. I can’t help but smile; this predates all that messy Vortex Club bullshit.

  
Hayden snatches my arm away, and the photograph flutters onto the ground. “Let’s _move,_ Warren.”

  
Max bends down to retrieve the photo as I’m dragged off by Mega Douche. “ _Yo,_ I was having a conversation,” I grumble, but it’s futile.

  
We head straight into the mouth of the beast. Crowded around a group of trees is the rest of the Vortex Club, or at least the elite of Blackwell, all sporting high fashion and dirty looks.

  
“’Sup, Courtney.” Hayden flashes a scowling smile. They might be part of the same club, but he doesn’t hold any of them in high regards. He’s not sending any of them direct Snapchats, if you know what I mean. “I’m loving the new shoes.”

  
“Thanks.” She purses her lips. “I got them in the plaza last night. Totally maxed out my dad’s Visa.”

  
“’Kay, so dig it. You’ve just been given the power to rewind time, so when you see your best friend die, you use your powers to save their life. But this fucks with the universe and now there’s a huge storm coming to destroy the town. Do you sacrifice them to save the town, or do you sacrifice the town to save your best friend?”

  
Dana Ward, a pretty girl on the cheerleading team, grins confidently. “For real?” She pulls her girlfriend, Juliet Watson, into her lap. “I’d do whatever it takes to save my girl. Arcadia Bay can suck it.”

  
“Hells yeah.” Juliet kisses her on the cheek.

  
Courtney lifts her shoulders, shoulders squared. “I would warn everyone about the storm and make sure everyone gets out alive. Nobody gets left behind.”

  
“You’re the real Everyday Hero...” I mutter.

  
Hayden huffs and steers me away from the group. “If you’re gonna openly be a dick..."

  
I clench my jaw. “Y’know, can’t we talk to other kinds of people? I feel like I’m losing brain cells.”

  
“Fuck me gently with a chainsaw, Graham. Do I look like Gandhi? If I did, I probably wouldn’t mind chatting it up with the geek squad.” He gestures to a group of girls sitting by the fountain. With a further glance I recognize Kate Marsh, Stella Hill, and Alyssa Anderson, who is thankfully unscathed after that chemistry lab.

  
“Oh my god, Hayden Jones just looked _right_ at me,” Stella gushes. Kate's face is that of concern, but Alyssa isn’t fazed.

  
“It doesn’t bother you that everyone at Blackwell thinks you’re a piranha?” I glare at him, but these daggers aren’t killing anyone.

  
Hayden shrugs. “I don’t give a shit, man. They all want me as a friend or a fuck. I’m a god at this school and everyone knows it.”

  
_What would you do for your god? Would you bleed – would you kill – would you die?_

  
My shoulders slump as I approach the group of girls. Hayden follows me, mouth pinched, and it’s a small victory – but not enough to win the war.

  
“Hey guys,” I greet meekly, knowing full well that Alyssa likely wants my head on a stick and is probably imagining it in her mind as I speak.

  
“Hi, Warren,” Kate says while Stella is reduced to a nervous, giggling mess. Alyssa glances up from her cell phone to frown at me.

  
“So..." Hayden stands stiffly, lowering his chin to look down at them. “Here’s what’s happening. This is the lunchtime poll..."

 

* * *

 

 

Kate knits her eyebrows together. “Well… I don’t think it’s up to me. To interfere like that. I think you should let things run their course… even if it’s hard.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Wowsers, that’s deep.” Max sets down her Polaroid. “Um...I guess it depends on what _they_ want. There’s no way I could make the decision alone. That’s... that’s too much pressure.”

 

* * *

 

  
Taylor Christensen looks at Victoria Chase before she answers. ( _Taylor is a slave..._ ) She smirks. “Please. If I could go back in time, I would like, change my test answers or something.”

  
I like to call them the Mean Bitch duo in my head. Blonde, rich, and tongues so sharp I’m surprised their lips don’t bleed.

 

* * *

 

 

Justin, a stoner with a bad goatee, pushes himself back and forth on his skateboard. “Dude...that’s trippy as fuck.”

 

* * *

 

 

Brooke rolls her eyes. “This is so embarrassing coming from you, Warren. Einstein – ever heard of him? This theory doesn’t work because nothing can travel faster than the speed of light.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Or, you know,” Taylor shrugs, “write down lotto numbers or some shit.”

 

* * *

 

 

Rachel Amber’s smile dazzles me. “Jokes on you; I already have mystical time traveling powers.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Hypothetically,” Brooke frowns, “time travel into the future could be possible if you consider the space-time four dimensional fabric…”

 

* * *

 

 

“We’ve already had this conversation before,” Rachel says, “but I went back in time to see if I could make you blush.” She winks at me, and I can feel Hayden’s envy boring into my skin, but I don’t know why. I’m not a threat. I’m less than a threat. Among all the ones and zeros, _I am a zero_.

 

* * *

 

 

Chloe Price takes a drag from her joint and then exhales slowly, the skunky smoke billowing in my face. “Whaaat?” She mutters, dazed. “That’s a hella stupid question. Obviously save the bae.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Check it out, guys.” Logan side steps us and holds up his phone for us to see. “Already got a hundred views.”

  
It’s an Instagram video; playing on loop is Daniel’s lab bursting into flame, and then Daniel in a clumsy panic as he tries to put out his burning T-shirt. The footage isn’t very flattering.

  
“Jesus, you took a video?” I snap, recognizing Hayden’s Instagram handle ( _jonesisboss_ ). “Hayden, that’s low.”

  
He shakes his head. “You wanted to be tight with the most popular club at this school. If I wasn’t already top dog, I’d want the same thing.”

  
I narrow my eyes, unamused.

  
“Yo, come on, Warren. You used to be funny, remember?”

 

* * *

 

  
I stand guard in the bathroom as Zach gets high off Ritalin in one of the stalls. There’s nothing to do but stare at my shoelaces and try to ignore the pungent smell of piss, but someone’s gotta do it. And for some reason, he wants it to be me.

  
He snorts hard, and I can practically feel my own nostrils tingling. Behind the stall door he’s wiping his nose now, getting ready to do another line, and I feel like I’m not supposed to be here, witnessing this.

  
“Maybe you should slow down with all the nose candy,” I say. “I hear Gushers are fucking awesome.”

  
“Hilarious, bro.” He snorts again and it makes me remember this story I read on Reddit about some coke junkie who sneezed and found a chunk of bloody membrane in their hand. Eroded septum or something. “You sure nobody’s coming?”

  
“Yup. Snort away, amigo.”

  
Once he’s sufficiently drugged out, we head back outside to join the others, because guys don’t travel to the bathroom together in packs. Not gonna lie, it’s a little scary when girls do that. I mean, for all we know, they could be planning world domination in there.

  
Mystery boy still sits in the grass, nodding to whatever music is playing on his phone. God, he’s even cuter without the safety goggles.

  
I wish we already knew each other – wish we were already friends. Because I know humans are just carbon, nitrogen, hydrogen... we’re just _atoms_. But I feel like his atoms might be in sync with mine.

  
“Damn, Warren, you got a hard-on for the new kid or what?” Zach scoffs. “His name’s Nathan Prescott. He’s in my World History.”

  
“Good to know,” I say, and despite myself, despite my crippling anxiety and my pitiful social skills, I walk straight toward him, my legs carrying me until my worn sneakers make contact with his fancy Oxford shoes.

  
“Hey, Nathan Prescott.” My mouth breaks into the dorkiest of smiles, but I’m quick to bite my tongue. Why is it so hard to look like a normal person?

  
“Yo.” He takes out his earbuds and smiles like he knows something I don’t. “You a Vortex Club groupie?”

  
“Nah, I’m just…” I rub the back of my neck, suddenly ashamed of my Blackwell hoodie and sagging jeans. I feel like a douche. “I’m just Warren... Graham. Oh, yeah, so… this is going to sound like a really stupid question, but…”

  
“Shoot.”

  
“Okay – you’ve been granted the ability to rewind time. So when your best friend dies in front of you, you use your powers to save them. But this disrupts the universe so now there’s a storm coming to wipe out the town. Do you erase what you did to save the entire town, or do you get the hell out of dodge with your friend?”

 

He furrows his brows in contemplation. “Yeah, that’s the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard.”

  
My gut clenches. Way to ruin things in less than fifteen seconds.

  
“I guess... I don’t know. Maybe the world needs a storm. Maybe someone _should_ fuck with the universe.” He laughs.

  
“How edgy,” I say, another cheesy smile tugging at my mouth. Get a grip. We’ve literally just exchanged names and I already want to… what? Kiss him?

  
I mean… maybe kind of. Jesus, one guy smiles at me and I’m already pining.

  
“Hey, come _on_.” Hayden interrupts bitingly. I flinch because I never saw him coming, but that’s the Vortex Club for you.

  
“See ya around,” I say quasi-smoothly, like I’m walking away on my own accord instead of being dragged off like a scolded child.

  
“Absolutely,” Nathan promises.

 

* * *

 

 

I’m mostly unresponsive during the “Ass vs. Tits” discourse that Zach and Logan have going on. Not that I don’t love a good debate, but...

  
“It’s all about the tits,” Zach professes. “You see Rachel over there, in that tiny little shirt? Like, damn, imagine blowing your—"

  
“Nah, the booty.” Logan cuts in. “Ever watch Dana from behind? She can sit on my face any day, bro.”

  
No, my eyes are fixated on the Mean Bitch duo – Taylor and Victoria. They strut across campus with purpose, their hips swaying. I can’t see their faces, but I know they have malicious intent when they approach Nathan Prescott.

  
He is upright now, slouching as he sucks a Newport with the utmost indifference. It dangles between his fingers loosely as he exhales, his face shrouded in cigarette smoke.

  
Taylor snatches the cigarette from his grasp and lets it fall into the grass, stomping it with her shoe until there are no surviving embers. “You think you’re such hot shit.”

  
“You know you’re only here because your daddy got you in, right?” Victoria jeers, manicured hands resting on her hips.

  
Nathan’s eyes darken dangerously as he stares at them, waiting.

  
“She asked you a question,” Taylor snaps.

 

“You know, T, I really don’t think Blackwell’s a good fit for fucking psychos.” Her lips curl into a scowl. “Everyone’s seen those meds you take, Prescott. You’d probably look better in a straitjacket than that cardigan, don’t you think?”

  
“What the fuck ever, skanks.” From here, I can see veins pulsing in his forehead, his chest heaving, his reddening cheeks. “At least I won’t be sucking dick for A’s.”

  
Now it’s time for Victoria’s cheeks to rouge. She’s quick to adjust her shirt collar, suddenly awkward. “What the fuck did you just say?” She growls, her bitch boost at a solid 86%.

  
He grinds his teeth and reaches into his pocket. “Want me to repeat myself?”

  
The gun he brandishes is close enough for Victoria to kiss when he pulls the trigger.


	2. American Trash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as an FYI/heads up, the second half of this chapter is very NSFW. Enjoy.

I never thought the Vortex Club would be kicking it in my dorm room, but here we are. Playing Smash together like we’re all old friends or something.

 

Hayden is Ganondorf – who is off limits to anyone else, Zach is Metaknight, Logan is Ryu, and I play as Kirby. Mostly because I love kicking their asses as Kirby, amirite?

 

“What do you think’s gonna happen to Prescott?” Zach asks, hands quivering as he button-mashes. Ritalin crash. I tried telling him to take it easy, but does anyone ever listen to me...?

 

“No way he’s getting expelled,” Logan says. “His dad has too much cash. Might get suspended though.”

 

Hayden snarls, “The dick should be locked up. He used a fucking real gun.”

 

“Oh, come on,” I say, “He used _blanks_. Nobody got hurt. And besides, I blow shit up in chem all the time and you don’t see me getting kicked out.”

 

“You’re pretty casual about the whole deal,” he says. He throws down his controller when he’s booted from the game and then combs through his backpack for – surprise, surprise – a baggie full of joints and a lighter.

 

“Oh, uh...” I clear my throat. “Can you not – in my dorm ? It just leaves a super strong smell, so...”

 

“So you’re chill with Billy the Kid shooting up the school, but I can’t light up in here.” He zips his bag shut. “Okay. Well, I have some shit to finish up before the party tonight, so I’m gonna check out.”

 

Logan has just died in-game, so it’s only Zach and I now. But when Hayden gets up to leave, they both start packing, too. And it’s whatever. I know they can hardly function without the presence of Hayden, anyway. I can’t be too offended.

 

“Got it. I’ll see you guys later then,” I say, and just like that, they are gone and my dorm returns to being my lonely hole in the wall. It’s nothing new, but I never get used to the sudden silence after company is gone. A room full of human noises, voices and fidgeting, to a room with nothing but static. It gets under my skin.

 

My mom tries to FaceTime me, but I turn my phone over and pretend I don’t see the call.

                                                                                               

* * *

 

 

 Hayden pulls up in the Two Whales Diner parking lot and drops a twenty dollar bill in my lap. “Fries – and make it fast. I just smoked a bowl and I’m fucking starving.”

 

Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, Hayden.

 

The twenty disappears into the hungry mouth that is my wallet. It’s not like I can’t afford a meal at a small town diner, but if he’s going to throw money my way – hell, I’m not complaining.

 

I enter an alternative universe as I step into the diner, with the vinyl booths, the sizzling smell of burgers and Blondie oozing from the jukebox. It always feels like that at first, anyway. Until you see all the slanderous graffiti in the bathroom or recognize some asshat from school sitting in your booth – and then you remember exactly where you are.

 

I put in my order and lurk by the jukebox, which is miraculously still kicking after all these years. I don’t know if I’m in a _Hotel California_ or _Love Potion No. 9_ kind of mood. Or maybe _Monster Mash?_ Yeah... definitely _Monster Mash_.

 

“You gonna put in a quarter or what?”

 

Nathan Prescott strolls up and leans against the jukebox, looking so effortlessly cool. 

 

“Not yet,” I answer, hoping my giddiness isn’t so overwhelmingly obvious. “Haven’t decided on a song. What’s a guy like you doing here, anyway? I thought you’d be, like, in the dorms, avoiding this shitty town.”

 

“So you’ve thought about me,” he smiles faintly. “A guy’s gotta eat. I’ve been moving around my whole life, and these diners are always the same. I live off these fucking milkshakes… they keep me from losing my shit.” He lifts a nearly empty milkshake glass. Looks like classic vanilla.

 

“Oh yeah?” I raise an eyebrow. “What about the shit that happened at lunch today? Pretty over the top.”

 

He shrugs. “Being subtle doesn’t get you anywhere. Now, was I plugging my digits into your phone, or was I going to hand over mine?”

 

Heat creeps across my face. “Uh… oh. Hold on…” I reach for my phone and type in the passcode. “Here.”

 

“1-0-2-6,” he says, taking the phone. “Your birthday?”

 

He saw my passcode. “Nah, it's from  _Back to the Future_... you know, the default day Marty and Doc use for the DeLorean..." 

 

“Oh, damn.” He enters in his phone number. “Got myself a nerd. Hot.”

 

 _I’m literally going to piss myself if he doesn’t stop now_.

 

“Honey, your order’s ready.” Joyce calls out. She sets a large white paper bag on the counter. “Enjoy.”

 

I give her the twenty dollar bill from my wallet and tell her to keep the change – a whopping $16.05 – because it’s Hayden’s money, not mine. And plus, Joyce is super awesome. She’s been working here since I was a kid – and probably longer.

 

I follow Nathan into the parking lot, where he approaches a brand spanking new red truck.

 

“Shit, that’s yours?” I ask, thinking about my own used car that took at least two years to save up for.

 

“Yeah.” He leans against the car and fidgets with the keys, his hands trembling. “A bonus from having the richest dad in town or something.”

 

“Wait... shit, hold on. Nathan Prescott, like... Prescott Dormitories? _Holy fuck_.”

 

I see it now, his perfectly coiffed blonde hair, shined Oxford shoes, the ring on his pinkie finger – real silver, I’m sure. He’s fucking loaded.

 

“You...Sean Prescott is your _dad?_ I’ve only heard rumors about that guy...”

 

“They’re probably true,” Nathan says. “If you can take over one town, you can take over the world... wise words from daddy. My family’s from Arcadia Bay, but I only just moved back for Blackwell. And there was a little trouble at my last school, so...” He smirks. 

 

“Jesus. Being his kid... That sounds like hell.”

 

“Everybody has their own shit. What about you, nerd boy?”

 

That’s not the worst thing I’ve ever been called.

 

“Me? Oh, I’m living the dream. I’m headed to a world class Vortex Party.”

 

Hayden honks the car horn three times in a row, each time longer than the last.

 

“Yeah...” I clutch the paper bag more tightly. “Life’s been better. I guess... I don’t really like my friends.”

 

“I don’t either,” he smiles, betraying the bags under his eyes.

 

“You’re either in the club or burned by them,” I say. “There’s no middle ground. No way to peacefully coexist.”

 

“Then maybe you have to look for another way out,” he comments. “But I guess I should let you go. Wouldn’t want you getting in trouble with your...friends.”

 

* * *

 

 

Hayden escorts us into the VIP section, and I am overwhelmed by the throbbing lights and the sea of people. Alcohol bottles are strewn about in plain sight, and people drink from them without a care in the world, eyes closed and heads tilted back. 

 

I feel like I belong in general admission, leaning against the wall and playing on my 3DS. Or better yet, not here at all. Holed up in my dorm, nursing a Monster instead of a Heineken.

 

From the very first bass drop, I already feel my brain disconnecting from my body. And with every vibration, I am getting farther and farther away. 

 

Hayden coerces me to take a few shots of something that is brown and tastes like Satan’s piss, and then next thing I know, he’s handing over his bong.

 

“Inhale like it’s oxygen, brah.” He laughs. “This shit is dank.”

 

I follow his instructions, but quickly shove back the paraphernalia when my lungs feel like they are about to implode. I cough unceremoniously as tears cloud my vision. 

 

“This bitch can’t handle his weed,” someone taunts. Probably Logan.

 

“Nah, take another hit,” Hayden encourages. “We’re just getting started. Frank hooked me up with the good shit.”

 

Tears stream from the corners of my eyes as I inhale again, this time like my life depends on it. My brain buzzes pleasantly.

 

Smoke flows out of my mouth and nostrils in wispy little clouds. Hayden cheers.

 

I watch from afar as Hayden grinds with some girls, bodies intertwining so closely you’d think they were ready to strip here and now. But knowing Hayden, that scenario isn’t too far away. I know a few girls who would get on their knees for him in exchange for “something special”. And a few more who would for nothing in return. 

 

When I find myself standing idly and browsing my phone, I decide what better time than to text Nathan.

 

"ヾ(＾∇＾) warren here! now you have my number!" 

 

Hayden shimmies up beside me mid-song before I can send another text, but the girls don’t stop dancing. Instead, they close the gap where he used to be.

 

“Yo, Taylor’s heading over,” he shouts directly into my ear, and then presses something – a vial – into my palm. “For when she sets down her drink.”

 

Before I can answer, he’s gone, off to greet Taylor.

 

I shove it in my pocket immediately, lest anyone catches me with it. And when nobody is watching, I take a quick peek; a small bottle filled with clear liquid. Something tells me it’s not vodka.

 

Taylor and Hayden laugh together about something I can’t hear over the _thump thump thump_. He brushes his knuckles against her arm; she parts her lips and gives him a sultry look.

 

She sets down her infamous red solo cup, and I know this is my cue.

 

Hayden passes her the bong, and she giggles too loudly as he lights it for her.

 

This is my move. But as much as I hate Taylor, no way am I spiking her drink. What happened at school today was funny, but this is over the top and nobody deserves to be at the mercy of Hayden like this – not even the Mean Bitch duo.

 

She almost looks vulnerable instead of vicious as she clutches the bong, eyes shut tight. And with Hayden looming behind her, she looks small.

 

Taylor takes a few hits before kissing Hayden on the cheek and grabbing her drink, because god forbid you’re empty handed in a place like this.

 

When she finally struts away, Hayden cups my shoulder. “You do it?”

 

“No – what is this shit, Hayden?” I scowl. “I’m not just gonna dump this in her drink.”

 

“Relax, relax. You wanna get that fucking stick outta your ass, Graham?” He frowns. “Nobody’s gonna get hurt. It’s just to get them in the mood and shit, y’know?” 

 

“I should pour this down the toilet,” I say coldly. “These girls are already wasted, and you still want to dose—”

 

“Talk louder, why don’t you?” Hayden’s face screws up angrily. “Look, I thought you could fuck with us. That’s why I brought you here. If you can’t chill for just one night—”

 

Turns out the gut churning was more than just bad feelings this time. I start to retch, doubling over. The last thing I see are Hayden’s expensive Nikes before my mouth opens wide, vomit spewing in every direction.

 

I wipe the side of my mouth with my sleeve and revel in Hayden’s look of horror. “Fuck you and your date rape bullshit,” I yell over the pounding music, despite my suddenly hoarse throat.

 

I turn on my heel to leave the VIP section, wishing I could be invisible just one more time. But as I push past the curtain and struggle to wade through the party goers, Hayden’s voice calls out, and it reaches me where Hayden can’t.

 

“Get back here, you little prick! That’s my shit.”

 

I keep walking. The beat goes fast, hard, like a hypnotic rhythm meant to put you under. Swirling projections, flashing lights... god, I’m going to puke again.

 

I’m not sober enough to walk in a straight line, and everyone’s movements are unpredictable, so I have a hard time maneuvering around the swimming pool. It’s a push and pull game, willing my dead weight forward and being able to steer myself away from the edge of watery oblivion.

 

When the music dies down and I’m finally outside, my stomach threatens to empty itself again, but I squeeze my eyes shut until the feeling passes.

 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

 

Hayden approaches me, nostrils flaring.

 

“Not one of your groupies,” I snap. “You wanna dose those girls, do it yourself.”

 

“It’s not like they all don’t wanna jump my bones anyway,” he says. “I’m just helping them out.”

 

“You’re full of shit, Hayden.”

 

“Okay, then hand it over, asshole.” He demands. “And you can consider yourself off that fucking VIP list. For good.”

 

I’ve already come this far, so I grab the vial from my back pocket and fling it at the ground. The force is enough to shatter the glass. The shards split into a dozen scintillating pieces and liquid seeps quickly into the concrete.

 

“You did not just do that,” Hayden says, strangely calm. It feels like a lifetime before he barrels into me, and in slow motion, his fist makes contact with my mouth. The taste of iron floods in. He swings at me, and it feels like my nose is breaking. Feels like my brain is disintegrating.

 

I sink my fist into his stomach, and then use all my weight to throw him onto the ground. But I come tumbling down, too.

 

From there it’s all blood and bone, ugly teen rage. A mess of limbs, a few really good punches here and there. And I’m so dizzyingly drunk, it’s hard to remember why I’m fighting so hard.

 

Hayden shoves my face into the grass with one hand and then elbows me in the back – not friendly.

 

I lay there, breathing heavily, grass cool against my fresh wounds.

 

I can’t move.

 

“You’re an idiot if you think you can get away with this,” Hayden snarls, sounding further away. My face is still pressed into the dirt and grass, but I know he is hovering over me. “You’re a fucking dead man on Monday, Graham. You can’t run.”

 

I keep still, inhaling blades of grass, until his footsteps grow quieter. Until they disappear.

 

I’m slow to get back on my feet. My center of gravity feels wrong, and I stagger the first few feet.

 

My phone buzzes while I trudge across campus. I clumsily enter the key code and wait for the swirling letters and numbers to come to a standstill.

 

“ **Nate**

my dorms rite across from urs btw”

 

I blink. The dorm across the hall has been empty ever since Danny Negrini got expelled in October, so it makes sense.

 

 _Buzz_.

 

“ **Nate**

i think thats ur dorm n e way, saw dat nerd shit on ur dorm slate”

 

Guilty— _buzz, buzz_.

 

“ **Nate**

when ur thing gets boring, u know where 2 find me”

 

Wait.

 

I read this message over and over, dumbstruck.

 

My thumbs hover over the keyboard for an eternity, trying to deliver a witty response.

 

I send him the alien emoji, because behind several layers of nuance and inside jokes it makes sense to me. But as soon as the text is delivered, I realize it’s going to make close to no sense to Nathan.

 

Within ten seconds, I receive a dozen question marks from him via text.  

 

 

* * *

 

 

 When I get back to the dorms, I face the room diagonal from mine. Where dust used to gather reads a new message written in red marker: “AVOIDING THIS SHITTY TOWN”.

 

I’m already knocking on the door when I remember what I must look like: nose caked with dried blood, grass stains smeared across my chin, and a nasty black eye emerging. Shit.

 

“Door’s open.”

 

I turn the knob before I have time to over analyze and chicken out.

 

“Oh, shit.” Nathan laughs curtly, bathed in the light from the high-tech projector he has set up in the room. “Is this what happens at Vortex Club parties? Maybe I should join.”

 

I touch my nose gently, finger tips rubbing against the coagulated blood on my nostrils. “Not exactly... Less blood, more vodka.”

 

He lifts a baggie filled with brightly colored pills. “You wanna? It's lame as shit doing these alone."

 

I stare at the anonymous pills. If it were Hayden tempting me, I’d be less than eager. But the Vortex Club isn’t here, and we are not in a pulsing crowd where the music is so loud the walls tremble.

 

“Should I ask what that is?” I say, but at this point I'm already convinced. I'm on death row, so why not, right?

 

“Molly,” he laughs. “It’s pure... I checked.”

 

Already I’m finding it difficult to say no to him.

 

We pop a pill each and take a swig from the bottle of Hennessy stashed behind the sofa. I stumble onto the furniture, head swimming. He joins me.

 

“So how’d you get the shiner?” Nathan scoots closer to me.

 

I lick up the sincerity that drips from his voice. I’m not used to people paying me heartfelt attention.

 

I want to impress him, say that the other guy looks worse. Say that a Vortex Club groupie looked at me the wrong way, so I decked him. But even as I toy with these scenarios, I know it’s a joke. _Warren the Badass..._ nope.

 

“Hayden Jones,” I confess. “I might’ve pissed him off.”

 

Nathan eyes my face, probably taking in the swollen lip, eye that’s half shut and trails of dried blood.

 

“And he did all that?” He shakes his head. “The fuck did you do, set his weed on fire?”

 

“It’s stupid – Hayden... is stupid,” I babble, my vocabulary on a sudden decline. “Hey, it cool if we talk about something else?”

 

“Ah... yeah. Yeah, it's all good.” He sips from the Hennessy bottle and then lets it loll beside him. “Mkay, I got it. How about you tell me a secret?"

 

“A secret? What, like Truth or Dare?”

 

He shrugs. “Without the stupid prank calls and strip teases.”

 

“Uh... Okay-" My once verbose brain is now filled with static, white noise. “I... uh... I've never cheated before – is that weird? I deal cheat sheets to half of Blackwell, but _I’ve_ never cheated..."

 

“You’re joking,” he scoffs. “That’s your darkest secret? You’re making me look bad.”

 

“Hey, you never said _darkest_ secret."

 

“Does that mean you got something better for me?” He leans into me, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh.

 

“Hah- no way are you getting another secret out of me. It’s your go.”

 

My leg starts to tremble, and with his leg pressed against mine, I know he feels it, feels how nervous I am. There are four layers of clothing between us and it makes my mouth dry, too dry to speak coherently.

 

“Worth a shot. But yeah, fine.” He cracks his knuckles. “Lemme see... My dad had to bail me out of fuckin’ jail once. I got real messed up on coke and they got me for disorderly conduct or some shit. His fancy fuckin’ lawyers took care of it...”

 

“Jesus... that didn’t even have, like, a gradual rise to insane. You _started_ at 100.”

 

Nathan looks at me, and then my bleeding mouth. “Yeah... Told you I wasn’t very subtle.”

 

I stare at his mouth too, pink and probably tastes like liquor-

 

“You sick of talking?” He asks.

 

“Uh- yeah," I mutter.

 

He looks me in the eye before climbing onto me with ferocity, hips grinding against mine as I open my mouth for him. The bottle of Hennessy falls to the carpet with a thud.

 

His teeth sink into my fresh wounds, still sore and bleeding. I dig my nails into his scalp as iron seeps into my taste buds for the second time tonight.

 

“Does that hurt?” He whispers, mouth hot on my ear.

 

"A little," I choke out. My body squirms beneath him.

 

“Good,” he says in between kisses, hungry and biting. “I want you to hurt me, too.”

 

I hesitate, my fingers loosely tangled in his hair now. He feels delicate, all skin and bones, like he might break.

 

But then he looks at me like, _come on_. So I kiss him violently now, all teeth, and then suck on the soft skin on his neck until the blood vessels burst.

 

The way they do it on TV – in the movies –

 

The way you kiss when you’ll be dead come Monday morning.

 

Nathan withdraws from me and starts to peel off his many layers. A navy blue jacket drops to the floor, and a cardigan is flung toward the bed; it doesn't quite make it.

 

I reach for his black button-up with feverish hands, prying each button loose, but he doesn't let me take this off. Just leaves it dangling off his shoulders.

 

In one swift motion, he yanks off my thick Blackwell hoodie. I strip off the two shirts I wear underneath, suddenly exasperated by how much clothing we both have on.

 

And then his hands are all over; tiny, sizzling shocks everywhere his fingers graze.

 

He straddles me, rocking his hips more aggressively when he notices I’m hard.

 

“You wanna fuck me, Warren?”

 

I swallow the knot in my throat.

 

He cups my jaw, forces me to look him in the eye. “Do you?” he asks, more demanding now.

 

“Yeah – _yes_ ,” I say, breathing heavily now.

 

“Okay.” He releases his grip on my jaw. “Let’s wait for the pills to kick in.”

 

“How  _long?_ " 

 

“Twenty... twenty five?” He grins. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to give you blue balls.”

 

“I hate you so much right now," I say, running my tongue across my teeth.

 

"Oh yeah?" He arches his brows. "Show me."

 

I suck in a deep breath and then shove Nathan off my lap, sending him sprawling onto the couch. Lying on his back, chest rising and falling like turbulent ocean waves. He licks his lips.

 

I crawl on top and straddle him this time, pressing my palms into the upholstery. The alcohol makes my body heavy, so I sink into him and kiss not so nicely, trying to draw blood. We play rough, all fangs and claws. I know I will wake up tomorrow morning bruised and aching, but after Hayden's beat down, I don't care what happens to me.

 

Nathan slips his hand down my jeans and grabs my ass, snaps the elastic waistband of my boxers.

 

I want to touch him too, learn the shape of his mouth, the geometry of his body. Every sharp line and angle. But every edge blurs when I try to focus.

 

"Are you sure the pills aren't working yet?" I slur against his mouth. "Everything's so... Fuzzy."

 

"Think you're just drunk." He snorts.

 

"Is it-" I turn away from his mouth. "... Okay to mix Molly and alcohol? I smoked some weed, too..." Usually I'm the genius when it comes to how chemicals react, but this is unfamiliar territory.

 

"Sure." He tilts my face closer with chilled hands and glides his tongue across my ear, finally nibbling on my earlobe.

 

"You know, your hands are _really_ cold. That could be from poor circulation... Or anemia," I murmur. 

 

"Mhm."

 

"Fuck." I gasp as he grabs my dick through the denim. My body arches, if only slightly. "Ah- I was gonna ask if you think people can hear us, but everyone's at that shitty party. Too many people. Did I tell you I puked on Hayden's shoes? Let's see him try to bleach that shit out-"

 

"Damn." He kisses me to stop my babbling mouth. "You always talk this much?"

 

"Shit. Sorry." I glance everywhere but his eyes. "Sometimes I just get nervous and start rambling about shit nobody cares about. And now I'm going to shut up before I do it again."

 

"You're nervous?" He wears a shit eating grin.

 

"I mean, I guess a _little bit_... It's just, I've never, like, I don't... Do-"

 

"God, forget the pills," he says, "Just fuck me already."

 

"Wait, _really_? Are you sure?"

 

"Yeah, yeah. Just grab some lube - behind you, middle drawer."

 

I pry myself off Nathan and stumble backwards, nearly crashing into the aforementioned dresser. Bending over, I tug open a drawer packed with neatly folded pairs of jeans. My hands sift through the denim until they close around a bottle, half empty.

 

I get out of the rest of my clothes and lather myself up with trembling hands.

 

"And turn on that MP3 player? Nightstand."

 

Per his request, I hit play and a hip hop song with distorted vocals starts to bump through the speakers. " _Captain Morgan shot the sparks; when we hang out, he shoots arrows through my heart_."

 

"How did you get moved in so fast? It took me a week to-" 

 

"Just get over here, dummy." 

 

Nathan rests on his bed now, naked and grinning. "You can hurt me if you want to," he tells me, turning onto his back.

 

_I don't want to._

 

Not at first.

 

But when he whines, begs, claws his finger nails into the bed sheets, my name rolling off his tongue mid-moan—

 

I am white hot, burning. Sweat dripping, mouth biting, heart pulsing so fast it’s a code blue – _cardiac._

 

The thudding music numbs all coherent thought, my brain just left with words like _yeah_ , _fuck_ and _please_.

 

But I can hardly speak.

 

I thrust myself inside him, grinding to _Monster_ , gasping and never quite catching my breath.  He arches his back, ribs visible and poking against the flesh. Breathy moans ascending into high pitched whimpers as I rest my hands on his swaying hips.

 

And when Nicki Minaj spits her verse, _rocking gold teeth and fangs,_ he tells me we can stop now... tells me he’s spent.

 

So I roll off of him, my body slick with sweat, among other things. Fingers twitching, room spinning. Nathan tangles his fingers in my hair, gently scratching at the scalp; a stark contrast to our previously violent behavior.

 

We lay like that for a while, eyes half-lidded and breathing slowly as the walls shake with angry vocals and pounding dubstep.

 

But when the pills kick in, a colorful uprising in our bloodstream, we are all over each other again. Just as hungry as before, and just as ruthless. This time screaming our throats raw. Going until the both of us are bleeding and tired, dizzy and drained.

 

Because as a dead man walking, I have nothing to lose.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note, the only reason I have this fic marked with "underage" is because according to Dontnod, Warren is only 16 and Nathan is 18-19... but then who knows, because Max is 18 and at one point in her journal she implies that she and Warren are the same age. It's a mystery haha.

**Author's Note:**

> I severely apologize for destroying Victoria and Nathan's canon friendship because I did NOT enjoy writing that. But alas, it remains necessary for plot reasons. Also, Hayden definitely isn't this douchey in canon, but we needed a big baddie.  
> Oh, and the title is from a Heathers movie quote, but also in reference to a song from the Heathers musical (not included in the cast recording).  
> P.S. 99% of the dialogue is my own, but definitely don't attribute gold like "Fuck me gently with a chainsaw" to me. I couldn't help borrowing a few quotes from the movie because that stuff is just too iconic.


End file.
